


when you walk your body through mine

by decideophobia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Stiles, M/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decideophobia/pseuds/decideophobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s hands are on him, following patterns across his skin only he knows. It’s maddening, touch alternating between feathery-light and firm. Stiles is so turned on he can’t think straight, can’t help the tiny, hungry, choked off noises that tumble out of his mouth. Derek scrapes his teeth along Stiles’ throat, gentle, teasing; rubs his cheek over Stiles’ heated skin, and Stiles jerks, moaning in sheer pleasure. He’s hard, precome beading at the slit, but Derek doesn’t touch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you walk your body through mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rena/gifts).



> Rena asked for smutty askbox fics, and I since I have no self-control whatsoever, I went over board. Here you go. Mindless porn.

The apartment door falls shut when Derek pushes Stiles up against it, hands moving purposeful and confident when they untuck Stiles' dress shirt. Stiles gasps out a surprised noise, moans when Derek's mouth covers his, tongue swiftly tracing his bottom lip. Stiles loosens Derek's tie without looking while Derek works on getting Stiles' shirt off him; and they're out of their clothes in no time. Derek's mouth never leaves his, breaths coming out harsh and panting when they part for a second.

Derek’s hands are on him, following patterns across his skin only he knows. It’s maddening, touch alternating between feathery-light and firm. Stiles is so turned on he can’t think straight, can’t help the tiny, hungry, choked off noises that tumble out of his mouth. Derek scrapes his teeth along Stiles’ throat, gentle, teasing; rubs his cheek over Stiles’ heated skin, and Stiles jerks, moaning in sheer pleasure. He’s hard, precome beading at the slit, but Derek doesn’t touch him.

He likes watching Stiles getting desperate for it, getting him worked up while Stiles strains, aches with the pleasure, with want, with need; and Derek just smirks, predatory, satisfied. Bastard. Derek’s fingers trail over Stiles’ nipple, down over the planes of his stomach, the sharp jut of Stiles’ hipbone; nails dragging teasingly through the trail of hair that leads down to Stiles’ dick. His other hand cups Stiles’ ass, squeezes while Derek mouths at his neck, at the pulse point, bites softly.

Stiles moans, bucks his hips, and hisses when Derek’s cock brushes against his, burning skin on burning skin. But Derek pins Stiles’ hips against the door with his hands, kisses the corner of Stiles’ mouth with a grin. “Not yet,” he says, and Stiles glowers at him. “I’d like it to happen in this century,” Stiles snaps. It elicits a chuckle from Derek who ducks down to lick at the hollow of Stiles’ throat, suck a hickey there. He scrapes his stubble over the sensitive skin when he’s done.

He leans back, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Derek lets go of him then, murmurs, “Wait here,” into Stiles’ ear and disappears into their bedroom. He comes back with the bottle of lube, throws it at Stiles who manages to catch it in his horny haze. But then Derek’s picking him up by the back of his thighs, and Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist automatically. Derek latches on to his neck again, tongue following the flush down to Stiles’ chest while he grabs for the bottle.

Derek slicks up his fingers, brings them down between Stiles’ legs. He rubs the pad of a finger against Stiles’ hole, slips in just so, and Stiles makes an impatient noise. He rocks down, feels Derek’s finger sliding in deeper, easy, and Derek groans. His eyes are on Stiles, pupils blown wide. Stiles likes this, likes seeing what it does to Derek when they do this; how he responds to what Stiles does. It’s enthralling and satisfying. He leans in, kisses Derek deep and filthy.

He rocks his hips again, swallows the moan Derek breathes out. Stiles winds an arm around Derek’s neck and brings his free hand down between them, wraps his fingers around Derek’s throbbing cock, tugs on it, and Derek jerks against him, moving in an aborted motion. Derek pushes another finger into Stiles, slowly but effortlessly, and Stiles clenches around him. There’s a tongue trailing the shell of his ear making Stiles’ shudder. He pulls back, chases Derek’s mouth until they’re kissing again.

Stiles moves himself on Derek’s finger as best as he can, moans when there’s a third finger when he shoves down again. Derek’s leaking over his hand and Stiles rubs his thumb over the tip of Derek’s dick, squeezes lightly. Derek crooks his fingers inside him just right, send tiny shocks down Stiles’ spine and ignites sparks behind Stiles’ closed eyelids. He thumps his head against the door at his back, lifts his hips up in a wordless come-on. Derek’s finger slip free, Stiles lets go of his cock.

Stiles holds his breath in anticipation as the tip of Derek’s cock nudges against his hole; gasps when he pushes in, and Stiles can feel himself opening up. It’s perfect, filthy pressure. Derek slides into him in one deliberate, swift motion. Stiles arches his back, clawing at Derek’s shoulders when Derek bottoms out. Derek’s fingers move down, brush over where Stiles is deliciously stretched out around Derek. It’s a heady sensation that rushes through Stiles, and he blindly reaches down too. He traces his own rim, feels the hotness of the base of Derek’s dick. Derek’s watching him closely, eyes half-lidded, and Stiles’ head spins.

“Give it to me,” he urges, and Derek complies wordlessly. The first thrust is deep, hard, forces Stiles’ mouth open on a silent groan. Derek’s balls slap against his ass, a sound loud to his ears, shooting straight down to his cock. Derek wraps his hands around Stiles’ thighs, holds on. Stiles keeps his fingers at his hole, feels himself being stretched open by Derek’s cock with every mind-melting thrust. He presses his back against the door, arms loosely around Derek’s neck. He rocks with Derek’s motions, a string of greedy sounds coming out of his mouth.

Derek gasps softly, dark sounds growing at the back of his throat every now and then. Stiles looks down at his cock, jumping with each shove, spilling precome copiously. He doesn’t touch himself, though, because Derek likes it when Stiles comes untouched. And Stiles enjoys it just as much. He can feel his orgasm building at the base of his vertebrae, sparking sensation shooting through him, making his balls draw up as Derek’s thrust become faster, harder; and Stiles is moaning which almost each one now. “Derek,” he breathes out.

Derek licks into his mouth, kisses his cheek. “Yeah,” he answers, knowing, shoves in deep. Stiles’ back arches, bow-string tight, and he throws his head back when his orgasm crashes in waves through him. He comes messily all over himself, head spinning with the force of it. Derek adjusts them a little, pushes Stiles up against the door, thrusts in once, twice, and stills. The groans from deep within his chest, body seizing up as he comes; nails digging into where he’s still gripping Stiles’ thighs. Stiles pants, feels blissed out and fucked raw, but it’s good. Derek buries his nose in his neck, takes a deep breath. Stiles smiles at him when Derek leans back, and Derek ducks in to press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Hot welcome back home sex. Check,” Stiles says, fistbumps the air.

He’s expecting Derek to roll his eyes.

But Derek just smirks, says, “Hot wall sex. Check.” He looks incredibly smug.

“You have a sex bucket list?” Stiles asks, incredulous. 

“Yep.”

“What else is on there?”

“You’re free to find out.”


End file.
